


Phoenix Repair Services

by carpemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Bottom Draco, Domestic Fluff, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco is Thirsty AF, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, H/D Career Fair 2017, HP: EWE, Hand & Finger Kink, Handyman Harry Potter, Harry is Beefy AF, Hung Harry Potter, Implied Switching, Innuendo, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Magic Theory, Oblivious Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Person of Color Harry Potter, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Fantasy, Top Harry Potter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid
Summary: Phoenix Repair Services — We’ll bring it back to life as if it was new!Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be.





	Phoenix Repair Services

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu/gifts).



> For [Prompt #24](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/124297.html?thread=4812937) of the **2017 HD Fan Fair - Career Fair**.
> 
>  **Career Showcased:** Harry - Magi-Handyman; Draco - Unspecified Business Man
> 
> Capitu, I put a lot of extra love and care into this one for you after your own kitchen troubles, so I hope it provides some belated catharsis for you! Thanks for providing such an excellent prompt so that I could bring this Harry to life! A big shout out of thanks goes to the discord chat for cheering me on in sprints, and I’m endlessly grateful to my lovely beta, **[bixgirl1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1)** , for your tremendous help, poking me to finish this, and for laughing with me when this kept trying to swerve into a cheesy porno plot!
> 
> The amazing [anokaba](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anokaba/pseuds/anokaba) drew Harry from the kitchen scene! You can view it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12803589) on AO3 and [here](https://ano-ka-ba.tumblr.com/post/167795073364/title-handyman-candy-authorartist-anokaba) on tumblr to scream about how amazing it is!!!! ♥

It started in the kitchen.

Draco slammed his door when he arrived home. He paused as he listened to the reverberated sound echo off the walls and grimaced at the custom framework around the front door. He let out a gusty, aggravated sigh and stalked off towards his newly remodeled kitchen, stripping out of his outer robes and dropping his carryall on the sideboard as he walked by.

He’d had a day from hell, the entire shitty thing, and all he wanted was to open a bottle from his red Bordeaux collection that he’d been saving for a special occasion because he needed— _deserved_ —to be cheered up and have _something_ go right for him today. He was exhausted from the long hours spent running around at work and he was ready to just relax.

He almost didn’t notice at first when he walked in the kitchen, which was laughable in itself, with his mind completely focused on the wine. But as soon as he turned towards the cabinet where he’d just finished storing his crystal wine glasses three days ago, he froze.

Draco spun around and looked in horror at the state of his kitchen, taking in the scene of complete carnage—it was _unbelievable_.

His brand new, Muggle-made kitchen cabinets were splintered in pieces on the floor, looking like a Norwegian Ridgeback had barreled through the room in a snit.

“What…in Merlin’s name…” Draco’s eyes darted around the room. “What the _fuck_?”

Not a single cabinet was still hanging on the wall. His expensive dinnerware, his china, and his serving dishes—all priceless family heirlooms—were strewn about the room in various shattered shards of glass. The soup tureen, passed down from his great grandmother, was broken into three pieces and the delicately hand painted scene of Abraxans galloping into flight was fractured, two of the great winged beasts stamping at the painted ground and waiting impatiently for their brother to follow them.

A pit grew in Draco’s stomach with each sickening turn around his kitchen. His appliances were on the floor, knocked down when the cabinets fell, he assumed. To top off this unholy day of complete, unfounded shit, the bottle of wine he’d had his heart set on opening was knocked into the sink. Draco numbly picked his way over the broken bits of glass and paint-chipped wood to peer down into the sink. He could feel a scream of rage and frustration bubbling up in his chest at the sight of the cracked wine bottle, the last dregs of his prized vintage slowly draining into the sink.

His hands shook as he raised them to rub over his face and back through his hair to push it out of his eyes. He was so flabbergasted by the state of his kitchen that he hardly knew where to begin. He made a low, pained sound in the back of his throat and dropped his hands uselessly to his sides. Draco turned to survey the ruined state of his kitchen and steeled himself.

“Get this sorted, then,” Draco muttered darkly to himself, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows with jerky movements and sliding his wand out.

The only reason he’d even hired the Muggle contractors to remodel his kitchen was because they had been rated the best for their woodworking. He cast a dark look over one of the shells of the cabinets in his pathway and tried to count his breaths to keep from spiraling into an apoplectic rage. He should have had the foresight to know he should have hired a wizarding handyman to do the work. Now he had the thankless task of carefully picking through the debris to see what could be salvaged.

It was slow-going work, levitating pieces of cabinet to one side of the room and casting _Reparo_ after _Reparo_ charms on what he could of his belongings. He cleared off the chalky chunks of drywall from the counters, littered there from where the cabinets had been enthusiastic in their descent from the wall as if they were swan diving to their demise.

By the time he finished dealing with the small appliances and his kitchenware, he was dismayed to find that his repairing charms were not working on the cabinets no matter how much force he put into the spell.

“ _Reparo_ ,” he growled for the third time, pointing his wand imperiously at the sad remains of one of the cabinets.

The wood trembled and shuddered for a moment, the chipped paint around the splintering knitting itself back together, before a shimmer flashed around the broken pieces and it fell to the floor again in an even more crumbled state.

Draco stood, rolling his wand between his fingertips and chewing on his lip. “ _Fine_ ,” he spat at the disappointing cabinet. “Sod this, I need a drink.”

Draco grumbled under his breath as he strode from the disaster scene in his kitchen to the antique bar cart he kept in his sitting room. He absently tugged at the knot of his tie, working his long fingers into the silk and loosening it. He left the strip of fabric slung around his shoulders while he poured himself a generous Firewhisky. Draco watched the smoke rising off the surface of the drink coil in the air.

He took a large gulp and grimaced at the burn, turned on his heel and sank into the comfort of his leather armchair. He ruminated over what to do about his kitchen, stewing in the anger simmering under the prickling surface of his skin. Draco swallowed another sip from his drink, savouring the subtle flavours of the Firewhisky.

Draco was completely fed up with the Muggle company he had hired to work on his kitchen. He had half a mind to send them a raging Howler, if only it wasn’t for the bloody Statute of Secrecy preventing him from revealing himself.

He ran his fingertips absently over his lips, staring into the middle distance and giving himself a minute to just forget about his terrible day for a few minutes. By the time he’d finished sipping his Firewhisky, Draco decided that he should Floo Blaise and Pansy for the name of the Magi-Handyman that sorted their bathroom plumbing with a wizarding space expansion they had installed on their tub when it went wonky.

He leaned forward and fished his wand out, pointing it towards the fireplace. “ _Incendio_.”

As the flames flared to life, Draco Summoned the pot of Floo powder from the mantel. He tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and groaned as he got up to kneel before the green flames. “Sterling Grove. Blaise…Pansy! Hello?”

Draco’s knees creaked unpleasantly as he shifted on the short stool he kept by the fire for long firecalls. He was about to open his mouth and shout for them again when Pansy’s severe bob swayed into view.

“Draco, darling,” she greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m—“ He wanted to be polite and tell her he was fine, because that was polite and the manners and etiquette were drilled into him, but he really wasn’t fine at all. “I’m in good health,” he decided on after searching for the right phrase. “And I hope you’re doing just as well.”

Pansy smiled at him, tossing her short hair. “Of course, darling. Now,” she said, her voice falling from the simpering tone she’d greeted him in. Thank fuck, the pleasantries were over. Draco relaxed minutely. “What is it, we’re just about to leave for a reservation.”

“I’ve had a…ah…incident with my kitchen renovations, it would seem,” he said, trying to figure out how to best put it so that Pansy wouldn’t mock him for his choice in workers. “I think I’d like the name of the Magi-Handyman who did the work on your bathroom that you love so much.”

Interest flared in Pansy’s eyes, and he knew she’d seen right through him like a shark scenting blood in the water. Bugger.

“How interesting,” Pansy said sweetly, and bloody hell, did Draco know that tone. He would never hear the end of it; yet another reason to regret hiring the Muggle woodworkers. “Well, darling, he really is quite worth it, even if you don’t think he’ll do a brilliant job just at the sight of him. I mean, what could he possibly know about these sorts of things when we all thought he would be on a different career path altogether, what with the spotlight. Although, I suppose it’s befitting for someone like him. If you saw him on the street, I guess you wouldn’t blink twice at him.”

Draco didn’t even bother trying to decipher any of Pansy’s words. He hummed, nodding. “Yes, pet. So you have his contact information for me, then?”

Pansy smirked at him. “That’s the funny thing, Draco. He prefers all of his clients contact him through his scheduling his assistant.”

“Alright?” Draco ventured. He couldn’t see why that would be such a surprising thing. It made sense; he was sure wizarding handymen worth their weight in Galleons were too busy fixing things rather than dealing with scheduling.

“Here,” Pansy said. Her arm twitched and a small card shot out of his Floo. “This is his card. I absolutely swear by him now, if you can believe it. I’ll never let another contractor near our estate without consulting him first.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, his eyes on the card.

All of the information he needed was on it. It was a nicely designed business card—simple, perhaps, but clean and modern. It was nothing flashy, like he had seen in the past.

“I appreciate this very much, Pans, thank you,” Draco said gratefully, looking back up into the flickering flames.

“Ta, darling,” Pansy returned with another smirk. There was something in her expression that gave Draco pause, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was thinking.

He glanced down at the card again and noticed that the handyman’s name wasn’t on it, only the company name in modest block letters. _Phoenix Repair Services — We’ll bring it back to life as if it was new!_

“You didn’t mention the Magi-Handyman’s name,” Draco said.

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Pansy said. Her smirk stretched into a wide grin that set Draco’s teeth on edge.

“Are you going to tell me his name?” Draco asked slowly after she didn’t seem like she was going to elaborate. He flipped the card over in his hand repetitively.

Pansy pulled away from the green flames of the Floo to talk to someone; their voices were distorted through the connection and Draco couldn’t make it out. She reappeared after a few moments.

“We’ve got to run, or we’ll miss our reservation, darling. You know how it is, exclusive guest lists and all that! Ta ever so,” Pansy said quickly, already pulling back from the firecall halfway through her sentence.

“Pansy, what, wait a—“ Before Draco could even finish, she had disappeared and shut down their connection. “Bloody simpering tart,” he groused, sitting back on his heels.

His knees popped again as he stood in a fluid motion and he groaned, stretching his arms high above his head and letting his spine realign itself. Draco read the card one more time and placed it into his carryall. He would contact the scheduling assistant during his lunch break tomorrow, he decided.

Draco debating going to survey his kitchen one more time, but decided that he would settle for a long, hot shower instead.

*******

Draco felt the shift in his wards just before a knock sounded from the front door. He was waiting on the Magi-Handyman, but he’d expected the wizard to come through the Floo. Draco tilted his head curiously as he approached the door to answer it when the knocking repeated again—polite, if a little impatient. Whoever he was, he didn’t give Draco very long to answer the door.

“Yes, coming,” Draco called out. “Don’t know why you didn’t just use the Floo, it would have been much fas—”

Draco’s words died immediately in his throat when he opened the door. A funny feeling ran through his body, shuddering through every nerve ending. He blinked in disbelief, his mouth hanging open and barely comprehending who was standing there. Draco was at a complete loss for something to say; he was too shocked at the sight of _Harry Potter_ standing on his doorstep with an honest-to-Merlin utility belt clipped around his hips.

Draco very nearly closed the door in Potter’s face, expecting this to be some sort of joke his friends were playing on him. He would get Pansy for this, he wouldn’t stand for this kind of cruel treatment, it was barbari—

“Didn’t you say your kitchen is all mucked up and that you need someone to fix a Muggle installation job?” Potter asked, holding his hand up to keep the door open. He was smiling politely at Draco, and wasn’t _that_ unsettling. Potter had never looked at Draco politely in his life that he could recall.

Draco’s mouth closed, opened, closed again, until he finally decided on saying, “And, what, that’s _you_?”

Potter’s polite smile twitched and Draco caught the ghost of a different expression before Potter was smiling blandly again. He shrugged and looked down at himself, his messy dark hair flopping forward. His t-shirt had old spots on it, but the sleeves fit snugly around the tawny coloured skin of Potter’s arms, and Draco could see where the shirt was thin and nearly fraying in spots where it was worn. He was so much more filled out than the last time Draco’d caught a glimpse of him, just after the war. “Yeah.”

“You. You’re a…a… _handyman_.” Draco finally landed on the word after waving his hand around as he helplessly grasped for the right title. The way Potter looked with his work belt slung low on his hips, slouching off to the side, Draco thought _pornstar_ in a trite film might be a more fitting label for him. He half expected the afternoon to end in some ridiculous convoluted plot where Potter was bending him over his marble countertops and pounding his arse with an unfairly large cock.

Potter shrugged again, holding his palms out to the side as if he was saying, _yes, Malfoy, here I am_. Draco blinked once more, struggling with the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief, and to clear his head of the inappropriate images floating around in his mind. _Get a hold of yourself, Draco. This is Potter—he would never be unprofessional enough to make that fantasy a reality_ , he thought with a small frown. Potter was probably too noble to even think of fucking his clients, anyway.

“A wizarding handyman? You’re having me on,” he said. It was starting to get awkward with Potter standing in his doorway. Belatedly, Pansy’s blathering about Potter being suited to the career clicked in his brain, her words echoing in his head. He frowned as he stared Potter down.

“I’m not. Do you want me to fix up your kitchen or not?” Potter asked, raising his thick eyebrows.

After pausing for another moment to consider that he was about to let Potter into his home—his private space—Draco stood back and held the door open wider.

“I expect my kitchen to look exactly as it was. I paid quite a bit of Muggle money to have those cabinets custom designed and installed,” Draco said with a warning look.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it all sorted,” Potter assured him with a charming smile as he shuffled past Draco.

Draco’s eyes quickly roamed over Potter, taking in the clothes he wore and felt his mouth go dry. Not only did Potter have on the slouching utility belt, where Draco could see a hammer and his wand sticking out of the satchels and loops, he was also wearing heavy work boots and jeans with a tear in them that gave a little tantalising peek at Potter’s thigh. He could see Potter’s dark leg hair. Draco swallowed and shook himself, realising he’d fallen behind while staring at Potter’s arse. He hurried after Potter and pushed by him to lead the way to the kitchen.

“I repaired what I could with charms—all my priceless family heirlooms were shattered on the floor,” Draco explained as they entered the kitchen. Draco’s stomach still sank at the sight of it, his chest growing tighter. The soup tureen with the galloping Abraxans was one of the items he’d had trouble fixing. “The cabinets didn’t respond to _Reparo_ charms at all.”

Potter paused beside Draco, glancing around and taking it all in. Draco had cleaned up what he could; all of the appliances were back where they belonged and he’d cleared the floor of all of the debris. The remains of his cabinets were half-shrunken and piled in one corner. Draco could see Potter rubbing his chin out of the corner of his eye. He turned to Potter and tried to clamp down on the little niggle of hope trying to take root in his stomach.

“Can you fix it?” he asked, trying not to let the note of cautious optimism show in his voice. He’d never heard anything of Potter’s work as a handyman before; how good could he possibly be? Just because he looked good in the uniform, didn’t mean he wasn’t a blithering idiot, Draco reasoned with himself.

Potter didn’t answer as he stepped further into the room, drawing out his wand from his utility belt. Draco hovered at the entryway to the kitchen, watching Potter assess the damage done to the room. He wanted to question each hum Potter made under his breath as he sorted through the splintered pieces of wood with efficient flicks of his wand that made Draco’s eyes catch on his wrist each time he repeated the motion.

Finally, Potter turned back to him with an amused, lopsided smile. “I should be able to get this all done in one session today. Might take a bit, though. Why don’t you go off and occupy yourself while I work in here—could get a bit loud if I have to do any woodwork to rebuild these cabinets,” he said.

Draco hesitated in the doorway, momentarily halted by the mental image of Potter doing carpentry like the Muggles had done, sawing long boards by hand and hefting the creation over his head. His eyes flicked over Potter’s form once more, silently appreciating the lean muscle he’d put on. Draco licked his lips, feeling completely off balance.

“I’ll…be in my study, then. _Don’t_ disturb me,” he drawled.

“Sure, whatever,” Potter said absently, his attention already back on the broken bits of cabinet he was unshrinking.

Draco lingered for a moment before he turned to go to his study. He was determined to get some of his work done and was resolutely _not_ going to picture Potter wearing just the solid work boots and the utility belt. He made a pained sound under his breath as he slammed the door to his study harder than strictly necessary and sank into his desk chair, dropping his head into his hands.

“No wonder Pansy was so bloody smug about this,” he muttered into his palms. With a sigh of agitation, Draco sat up and opened his carryall and settled in.

Draco made a valiant effort, working his way through three ledgers before his attention began to drift back to Potter in his kitchen. Potter. _Here_ , in his house. Draco tossed all of his poise aside to slump back against his leather chair with a faint groan. Potter was like something out of a fantasy in his handyman kit. It wasn’t fair. His younger self was running rampant in his mind, the old obsession rearing its head in delight.

He sighed and dropped his head back, closing his eyes. “You are a fool, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco sat up and pulled another ledger towards him, determined to get some more work done, but it was no use. His thoughts refused to ignore the fact that Potter was in his home at the moment. He shoved his paperwork away and tapped his fingers in a random beat against the armrests of his chair, trying to delay the inevitable. He resisted the lure for as long as he could.

He lasted a full three minutes and twenty eight seconds. It was a respectable effort for anyone trying to resist Harry Potter’s magnetic pull.

Unable to focus on his work, Draco wandered back towards the kitchen to spy on Potter as he worked. He crept around the corner to peer into the kitchen and had to bite his lip. Potter was sweatier than when Draco left him to do his work, his unruly hair sticking in damp curls to his shining forehead. He had three of the cabinets rebuilt and was working on a fourth. As he lifted it—by hand—to turn it so he could attach the front, his shirt rode up, showing off more of his golden brown skin. Draco licked his lips as he caught a peek at Potter’s firm, flat stomach and jutting hipbones. Draco felt a little dizzy at the sight. _When_ did Potter get so fit? The last time he could remember seeing him properly was at his trial five years ago, when Potter had still been gangly and half-starved from his time on the run during the war. After that, the only glimpses Draco ever caught of Potter were the grainy photos published in the _Daily Prophet_.

Potter reached into one of the pouches hanging from his utility belt and pulled out a few nails and then reached for his hammer. He put two of the nails between his plump lips and Draco had to swallow the sound that wanted to escape him as he watched Potter drive the nails into the cabinet with sure, confident swings with his tool. He wanted to be the nails between Potter’s lips at the moment. Draco watched the minute flex of the muscles in Potter’s arm each time he pulled the tool up and arced it down to smack against the nail. He could barely drag his eyes away.

So, naturally, that was when Potter noticed him hovering in the entryway.

“Checking up on me?” Potter’s question was mumbled with one nail still dangling from his mouth.

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but he noticed that Potter had sawdust in his hair, and he had the odd urge to go brush it out. He wondered if it was softer than it looked. He gestured vaguely and cleared his throat.

“You’ve…sawdust…in your hair,” he pointed out, screaming internally at how awkward that sounded. He was a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake.

Potter snorted as he took the third nail from between his lips to hammer it home. Each time the tool hit the nail a loud bang echoed in the room. “Hazard of the job. I’m usually quite dirty.”

Draco gripped the doorframe for support. “Is that why you’re dressed so slovenly?”

He felt like some of the balance was restored with his retort. Only, Potter laughed at his insult, making Draco feel even more off-kilter. He’d forgotten how Potter’s laugh sounded—so full of life and warmth. It made Draco’s stomach do a neat little flip.

“Yeah, but I’d rather be in this than constricting wizard robes when I have to be up and down all the time. They don’t tell you when you go into the business how often you’ll be on your back in the oddest positions,” Potter said as he fished another tool from his belt, twisting a screw into place on a hinge.

Meanwhile, Draco was trying to remember to breathe properly. Did Potter only speak in double entendres and innuendos? And Draco’s overactive mind was gleefully running with it; when Potter bent over and presented his arse in Draco’s direction, his first thought was to drape himself across the marble counter and claim he could pay Potter for his services with his body. He shook his head to clear another inappropriate thought away and coughed awkwardly.

“Sawdust getting to you? I can cast an air-clearing spell, if you’d like. I’ve just gotten used to breathing this in occasionally when I forget a mask or a Bubble-Head Charm,” Potter said.

Draco shook his head and waved Potter off. “You look like you’re nearly done. Isn’t that the last cabinet?”

“Yes,” Potter said as he levitated it into place and held it there while he cast a ward around it. Draco watched the silvery-blue magic tendrils slowly knitting themselves together. “The wards on the cabinets are low-grade, they’re just meant to be a support system. It’s a bit of magic that the wizards have worked out in their construction, where Muggles only have what they use to attach these to the wall. They don’t have the work around that we do. Keeps the cabinets tied to your drywall,” Potter explained as his wrist circled and flicked with each wand movement, directing the magic tails towards the next knot in the magic netting.

“Impressive,” Draco said, raising an eyebrow. The only thing the Muggles had done to keep his cabinets attached to the wall was to drill a support bracket. He should have just gone with a magic business in the first place; he could have avoided this entire mess.

After the ward sealed itself, Potter stepped back and examined each cabinet, double checking the wards he’d cast. When he was finished, he Summoned his tools and tucked them away in his utility belt and set an efficient _Scourgify_ to work on the room, sweeping up the sawdust in swirling spirals and rushing over the countertops.

His kitchen looked just as it had before and a tiny ball of tension uncoiled in Draco’s chest. His marble countertops were gleaming and his cabinets looked even better than they did when they had first been installed, standing pristine and proud once again. He couldn’t believe it, but he was actually _impressed_ with Potter’s work.

After fiddling with a side pocket, Potter held out a small yellow sheet of paper. Draco snatched it up and scanned it, rolling his eyes at the exorbitant amount listed at the bottom of the service receipt. He Summoned his carryall from his study with an efficient twitch of his wand.

“I see being a Magi-Handyman is more lucrative than the Auror force,” Draco said airily as he wrote out a cheque.

“Something like that,” Potter said cryptically, accepting the cheque and nodding to Draco. “Let me know if you have any other problems I can help with. My scheduling assistant can set it up for you.”

Draco swallowed and did not mention any of the indecent thoughts that had been running through his head at what Potter could _help_ Draco with. He just needed to get shagged—he was being completely ridiculous.

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco muttered instead.

*******

Draco could not get Potter out of his head for the next three days. He seemed to occupy every other thought Draco had, pulling his focus from his work, his meals, his sleeping schedule—Potter was taking over his mind all over again.

He seemed to constantly be thinking of Potter. Why had he become a handyman of all things? Draco was sure Potter was one of the noble heroes of the war that had been slated to join the honorable ranks of the Aurors. Even Longbottom had done a stint with them before the Hogwarts Herbology position had lured him to Scotland when Professor Sprout retired. Draco hadn’t been able to avoid the big splash Longbottom had made in the paper the previous year when the new term started up.

Draco pushed away his dinner and sat back. He let it get cold, forgetting to cast a preservation spell on it to keep it fresh and warm while he was trying to work out exactly how Potter had fallen into his line of work. And how he’d managed to keep it so secretive.

When Draco had initially contacted Phoenix Repair Services everything had been taken care of via Owl Post. It never occurred to him to question who exactly the scheduling assistant might be, or that the mysterious Magi-Handyman that would solve his troubles would be anyone he knew. If he was being honest, he’d expected a middle-aged wizard with a bit of a belly from a fondness for pints of Carling.

Draco wondered if he had actually been corresponding with Granger; she always seemed to be handling Potter and his schoolwork when they were in Hogwarts.

Draco could still easily picture Potter as an Auror. The regal red uniform would look quite fetching on him. He closed his eyes for a moment as he imagined Potter striding down Diagon Alley with purposeful steps, his calves cased in the snug, shiny boots and the scarlet robes flaring with each step. The Potter of his imagination certainly cut an authoritative figure.

He only hoped that he would shake the obsessive fixation quickly, his work was already suffering from his lack of focus. It was beginning to pile up and his boss was not going to be best pleased with him when she found out that Draco did not reach his usual, impeccable standard for the week.

*******

Draco didn’t think he’d need to see Potter again so soon, despite his obsessing, but his sink broke within the week. It was refusing to drain and smelled awful, and Draco could only take so much.

This time the knocking on the door made Draco’s stomach twist in anticipation. He still couldn’t get Potter out of his head; he seemed to consume all of Draco’s thoughts whether he was awake or asleep. He took a steadying breath and gripped the door handle, hesitating for only a beat before opening the door.

“Hello,” Potter greeted with a little wave. He had a bulky looking bag with him this time and he was wearing bloody _dungarees_.

“Potter,” Draco said shortly.

He spun on his heel and began leading the way to the kitchen, not bothering to invite Potter in properly. There was no way Draco was going to be capable of proper manners when he was faced with dungarees.

He heard the door shut and Potter’s shuffling steps behind him. “Since you were here last, my sink has not been right. Did you touch it when you were putting my kitchen back together?”

His question came out semi-aggressive in Draco’s attempt to mask his underlying eager excitement to have Potter back again. When they walked into the kitchen, he pointed imperiously towards the sink. “Well?”

Potter rubbed at the back of his neck. “Er, no. Let me have a look.”

“It keeps clogging up,” Draco elaborated, crossings his arms over his chest. “It hasn’t drained properly in days. I have to keep banishing the contents every time I use it.”

Draco watched raptly while Potter spent several moments waving his wand in a complicated pattern. Potter hummed as different coloured sparks and readings flew out of Draco’s sink drain.

“Ah. Hello,” Potter murmured quietly.

Draco inched closer. He gaped as Potter performed a non-verbal _Accio_ and skillfully caught a handful of olive pits in his open palm. He held out his hand to show Draco, smiling. “Here’s the culprit to your drainage issues.”

“I see,” Draco said slowly, unsure of what pits down his drain had to do with anything. He had never encountered this problem before. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Potter cast more spells over his sink.

A localised Bubble-Head Charm contained most of the rotting smell that permeated the air, taking care of the sour stench.

“That’s better,” Draco sighed in relief, momentarily forgetting his resolve to be aloof and unexcited to be in Potter’s presence. He relaxed against the counter, leaning his hip against the cool marble and watched Potter work.

“I’ll need to check the pipes to make sure there’s nothing else down there,” Potter said, turning to fish items out of the bag he’d brought with him.

Before Draco could say anything, Potter was opening the cupboard door to reveal the pipe work below the sink and lowering himself onto his back after casting a Cushioning Charm. Draco opened and closed his mouth, deciding it would be best if he kept quiet.

Potter had one leg bent as he began fiddling with the sink’s inner-workings, muttering spells under his breath. Draco’s eyebrows rose when he realised after the third spell that Potter was casting wandlessly; his wand was still sticking out of one of the many pockets on his dungarees. Potter reached a hand out and a tool smacked into his palm. Before Draco could even be grudgingly impressed at the display, Potter was using it on the sink pipe. His arms were flexing with each crank of the tool at different sections and Draco’s eyes felt like they were suddenly glued to Potter’s biceps.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, spurred on by the urge to fill the stale air hanging around them like a heavy mist.

“Making sure—” Potter grunted as he cranked the tool again, and Draco _definitely_ didn’t think of other instances where Potter might make the same sound “—there’s nothing else—down the drain…oh, bugger.”

“What?”

“Just a nut that’s on too tightly,” Potter said through clenched teeth as he tried to move the tool.

One minute, Potter was gritting his teeth and Draco was admiring the way his muscles bunched and quivered with effort, and the next the tightened part must have come loose because Potter’s hand slipped and a gush of water rained down on him, soaking him. Potter yelped in surprise, instinctively throwing up his hand to halt the flow of water with wandless magic—still managing to get sprayed while his magic was containing the leak—while Draco jumped up from where he’d been resting against the counter. He couldn’t help it—when Potter sat up, his hair matted to his forehead and dripping droplets of water onto his crooked frames, Draco burst into laughter.

“Laugh it up,” Potter muttered as he hoisted himself to his feet. Water was dripping off of him and splashing on the tiled floor. “Sink plumbing is a bloody nightmare. This happens _every time_.”

As Potter was begrudgingly ignoring Draco’s laughter, he unclipped the straps of his dungarees and rolled them down to his hips, revealing a very wet and very fitted cotton shirt. He tied off the shoulder straps, knotting them around his hips to hold the dungarees up. [Draco’s laughter cut off abruptly as Potter peeled the soaked shirt off, revealing more of Potter’s golden brown skin and a dusting of dark wiry hair on his chest. Draco couldn’t quite contain the strangled sound he made, but Potter didn’t seem to hear him, thankfully.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12803589)

There was a puddle of water in front of the sink where he had been on his back that Potter absently spelled away. Draco’s heartbeat jumped when he did it, realising just how much wandless magic Potter was doing.

Potter balled up his wet shirt and, with a grumble under his breath, tossed it onto the floor next to his bag. It landed with a soggy _plop_ that echoed.

Draco wanted to ask _why_ Potter didn’t just dry the damn thing and get dressed again—surely stripping in front of his clients was considered unprofessional for a Magi-Handyman—but he was too focused on the way the tiny droplets of water fell from Potter’s hair and ran down meandering paths on Potter’s flat stomach. Fuck, he wanted to fall to his knees and lick those beads of water off of Potter’s abs and run his fingers through his chest hair. His eyes tracked the trail of another bead of water and wondered if Potter’s bronze skin was as smooth and soft and warm as it looked.

Draco shook himself and turned to busy himself with getting a glass down from a cabinet so that Potter wouldn’t catch the evidence of how Draco was affected by Potter’s bare chest, like he was some swooning prude. His prick was starting to swell in his trousers; he was sporting the beginnings of an erection thanks to Potter’s unintentionally lewd display. He took measured breaths in through his nose and began reciting rune symbols in his head to distract himself.

“Sorry for the mess. Don’t worry, it’ll be gone before I leave,” Potter said.

Potter must’ve thought Draco was angry and not trying to fight off the wall of lust that had smacked him in the face at the sight of Potter without a shirt on, dungarees hanging off of his hips. Merlin, it _was_ like they were stuck in an awful plot to a mediocre porn film.

Draco didn’t turn back to face him. Instead, he got a butterbeer out and was meticulously removing the cap and pouring it into his glass. By the time Draco did face him again Potter was thankfully less wet. Draco’s eyes drifted up and smirked. Potter’s hair was poofed up worse than it usually was, stubbornly defying gravity in all directions. Even his bushy eyebrows looked thicker than they typically were, resembling small caterpillars above Potter’s green eyes.

“Your hair looks like a fluffy mooncalf,” Draco pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Potter ran a hand through his hair, and sod it all if that didn’t just highlight the firm curve of his arm. Draco very much had the urge to lave his tongue all over that, too.

“Yeah, it’s never behaved well,” Potter said, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smile. “Needs a lot of discipline.”

Draco made a humming noise in response. It was all he could manage when his overactive mind instantly filled with images of Potter splayed across his lap, and Draco’s palm stinging as he pinked up Potter’s bum, watching his skin get darker with each spank. He blinked out of his reverie when he realised Potter was saying something to him while he stared into space with glassy eyes.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said there wasn’t anything else down the sink drain,” Potter repeated.

“Oh,” Draco said. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yes,” Potter said slowly, rubbing at his jaw. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “You know, you can’t put this stuff down your disposal. It’s supposed to go in the bin.”

Draco blinked.

“Oh, are you sure?” He was still somewhat distracted by Potter’s shirtless state. His eyes drifted down to where Potter had rolled down his dungarees. “I was always able to do that with my last home.”

“Was the kitchen full wizarding?” Potter asked.

“Yes, what does that matter?”

“Ah, okay. You have a Muggle kitchen now, so there’s no banishing charmwork on the sink,” Potter explained, gesturing towards the sink. “I can fix that for you. Otherwise, I’ll be back quite soon to sort this out again, I imagine, if you were to repeat the mistake.”

Draco scoffed, offended that Potter was making assumptions about him. He crossed his arms and frowned at Potter. He hated the feeling of being lectured to about Muggle things by _Potter_ of all people. “Well, that’s just preposterous. What am I meant to have the disposal for, if not to _dispose_ of my unwanted food?”

It made perfect, logical sense to Draco. Potter paused, making a face.

“They’re just meant for liquids and breaking up very small things, not for all of your leftovers. And certainly not your olive pits,” Potter said gently, as if explaining to a child.

Draco’s gut instinct was to argue with him, even just for the sake of arguing. He hated feeling like he’d gotten something wrong after he bought a house with Muggle fixtures and wasn’t clever enough not to break anything. He had figured out elektra-city, hadn’t he? After struggling with his emotions for a moment, he finally decided that he should just let Potter fix it. It was his job, after all.

“Very well, if you insist,” Draco said irritably. Potter smiled at it him and it softened the edges of Draco’s annoyance.

Draco left him to it, unable to be around the tempting sight of Potter’s bare chest and the firm angles of his back any longer. He wandered around his house, managing to sit in his study for a solid chunk of time, even if he didn’t get any of his work done. Eventually he grew bored of trying to distract himself and found his way back to the kitchen.

He was...relieved to see Potter’s shirt back on his body when he walked in.

Potter turned when he entered the room and nodded to him before focusing on the spell he was casting again.

Draco leaned against one of the counters and watched as Potter arced his wand up and around the perimeter of the sink. Part of him was curious and wanted to know exactly how Potter was converting his Muggle sink into a semi-wizarding sink, but he also didn’t want to get into a debate over magical theory with Potter while he was in the middle of completing a job for Draco.

Potter murmured spells, his voice lilting and almost song-like as he tapped his wand against the fixtures and around the circle of the drain. He crouched down and cast a shimmering spell on the pipe inside the cupboard.

Draco couldn’t help his gaze falling down to Potter’s arse as he bent over further. The jeans Potter had on before were more flattering on him, but the dungarees still did things to Draco. He imagined gripping onto the bib, hooking his fingers in the loops of the hooks or the storage pocket and dragging Potter into a kiss, imagined pinning him against the counter while the sink sprayed them both until they were soaked. Draco swallowed and glanced away, his face prickling with heat. He couldn’t believe he was thinking these things, let alone getting so distracted by the ideas _in Potter’s presence_.

They didn’t speak much as Potter completed the conversion charmwork. When he was finished and gone again, Draco sulked around his house. It had taken less than half the time for Potter to sort out his sink than it had for him to fix the entire kitchen fiasco. Draco had been hoping Potter would be around longer—though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, other than his sudden obsession with his old school rival re-awakening.

*******

The third time he needed Potter, Draco definitely didn’t break his bath on purpose. That would be absurd.

No, Draco was simply trying out some spells from a new volume of do-it-yourself wizarding home remodeling that he received as a housewarming gift when he moved in. He had dug out the dusty volume from the very top of his library shelf after his last encounter with Potter and read it with a generous glass of wine, his bare feet being warmed by the crackling fire. After more than half the bottle, a brilliant idea in the chapter on bathrooms took hold of him.

Draco had only been trying to Transfigure his fixtures into something more his style when the complicated, multi-step spellwork went sideways and the tub refused to work properly.

He half-heartedly tried to sort out what he’d done on his own for all of ten minutes before he gave up. He wondered if there were anyone else he could reach out to, embarrassed to have to contact Phoenix Repair Services once again, but his head was too foggy from wine to think of someone else to help him.

Draco owled Potter anyway.

As if he really wasn’t going to call Potter for everything that required fixing in his home from now on. Draco could admit to himself that part of him was rather tickled by the idea of having Potter come when Draco called for him.

When Potter showed up, he looked just as tempting in his wizard handyman kit as he had during his previous visits to service Draco. This time Potter was sporting a dark shirt with the company logo across the breast, a phoenix spread in flight above the tag line.

“You’re really putting me through my paces. Isn’t this the third time in as many weeks, Malfoy?” Potter’s lips tugged into a crooked smile as Draco invited him inside.

Draco coughed to cover the impulse to grin back in response. “It’s the bath this time. More plumbing. If I recall correctly, you seem to enjoy that aspect of your job the least. I hope your skills with the kitchen sink match the necessary ones for bathroom plumbing.”

Potter’s smile fell and Draco wanted to chew his own tongue off for his cheek. “I usually get soaked when I have to work on plumbing projects, that’s all. ‘Mio—er, my scheduling assistant is always on me about remembering the proper protocols of wearing protective charms, but they itch.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Potter’s sheepish expression and turned to lead the way to his bathroom. “If I hadn’t already seen your work, that wouldn’t give me faith in your qualifications, you know. This way, then.”

Potter’s heavy, booted footsteps followed him down the hallway in the direction of the master bathroom.

“And my _skills_ are fine, Malfoy,” Potter added with a slight edge to his voice after they reached the bedroom. “I have all of the proper certifications, if that was your implication.”

“Well I would surely hope they didn’t just _give_ you the Magi-Handyman license just because the Boy Who Lived asked for one,” Draco said in a flat tone.

He heard Potter scoff behind him, but it lacked the irritation Draco expected at his petty jab.

“I actually had to take a cert course to learn all of the spells and technical skills, if that makes you feel better,” Potter explained as they came to the bathroom. Potter went straight to the tub and repeated the same humming ritual he had performed when Draco’s sink had broken.

Draco hovered just inside the doorway. If Potter asked, Draco would tell him he was there to ensure Potter kept his grimy hands off Draco’s fine French soaps. He would never tell him the truth: that he was really just eager to spend time as a bystander while Potter worked. As Draco lingered, Potter took his wand and the tools he needed from his utility belt then leaned over the side of the tub and put his bum on display; Draco's eyes swept over it. Potter didn’t even realise it—he was too focused on casting spells.

“What did you do to this? Somehow this is reading out that the pipes are all knotted up.” Potter sounded simultaneously bewildered and impressed at the same time as he straightened up and looked over his shoulder at Draco. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a mess like this before. Didn’t you say your whole house had Muggle plumbing?”

Draco felt the hot prickle of an embarrassed flush creep up his neck. He still hated to be told he’d done poorly. The do-it-yourself wizarding home remodeling book was still sitting on the vanity of the sink. Draco tilted his chin up a fraction. “I, ah, was working on Transfiguring the faucet to something more appealing to my tastes. If I have to stare at the fixtures in here while I bathe, I’d like it to look pleasant.”

“I see,” Potter said, rubbing his hand across his jaw.

Draco noticed that there was a dark shadow of stubble growing that hadn’t been there the previous two visits. It suited Potter, he thought. It certainly added to his wizarding handyman aesthetic.

Potter seemed to notice the book sitting on the counter and he snorted.

“As your Magi-Handyman I have to state that it’s inadvisable to take on home projects like that without proper training or input from an expert. Those books have been a right pain in the arse since they’ve come out. Everyone fancies themselves a go at fixing up their homes on their own.”

“Next time I try my hand at do-it-yourself I’ll be sure to firecall you first,” Draco promised, tilting his head to the side. “Does hand holding come with your expert supervision?”

Potter blinked at him and started rummaging through one of his pockets without answering, his hand sinking in far deeper than the pocket appeared. Undetectable Extension Charm, Draco thought, impressed with the cleverness. Potter was an enigma that made Draco wonder if he’d ever really known him at all when they were at Hogwarts, or if this new man before him had really changed so much.

Potter was prodding at the faucet with his wand and a spiral shaped tool when Draco came out of his brief reverie.

“How did you get into this line of work, anyway?” Draco asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. “I thought you were meant to be a star Auror by now. Or so the papers all say.”

Potter shot him a glance over his shoulder, the purple glow of his spell around the tub fixture reflecting off of his profile. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he turned more fully to face Draco, perching on the edge of the tub.

“Well, after the war I spent some time renovating the wizarding house that was left to me by my godfather, and I helped with the effort to rebuild Hogwarts. I ended up really liking working with my hands,” Potter explained. He held his palms on his thighs, facing up towards the ceiling, and looked down at them. Potter flexed his fingers into a fist and opened them again. He smiled faintly at his hands. “It’s rewarding work.”

“You’re happy to just go around fixing up messes?” Draco asked, a tinge of confusion creeping into his voice. He furrowed his brow. “You could be doing anything in the world, I imagine.”

“I like doing this, though.” Potter shrugged and smiled up at him. “I’m happy with my work.”

Draco was silent for several moments—long enough for Potter to resume working on unknotting the disaster he’d made of the pipes.

“You’re a strange one, Potter,” Draco finally muttered.

“I can live with that. I’ve been called worse before,” Potter said, chuckling. He turned back to the tub and gestured to the pipes. “Alright, I’ve got the pipes untangled. Let’s see if the water still comes through without me having to lube them up by other means.”

Draco was getting used to Potter’s unintentional double entendres, because that one didn’t even faze him.

He stepped closer and leaned into Potter’s personal space to reach the knobs for hot and cold, giving both of them a turn. He swore he felt Potter’s fingertips ghost over the back of his leg and he grinned down at the tub, hiding his pleased expression. When he felt he had enough control, he met Potter’s gaze evenly, his eyes flitting back and forth between Potter’s deep green eyes.

Draco stayed hovering close to Potter, savouring the way Potter’s breaths seemed to be coming shallow and quick, until they both startled when the water splashed into the tub from the faucet.

“Seems to work,” Draco murmured, breaking the spell that had held them both in place.

He stepped back to lean against the sink and settled a piercing gaze on Potter. Now that another of his problems was fixed, Potter would leave again. Draco wasn’t quite ready to be alone in his house yet.

An idea struck him and he straightened up. He grinned to himself at his brilliance.

“Potter,” Draco said, getting Potter’s attention. “Before you pack up, I have another proposal for you.”

“Is there something else you need from me?” Potter asked, his expression open and soft. Draco wanted to laugh at all of the ways he could answer that question. There was quite a bit he would like Potter to give him.

“That all depends on your skills. Am I correct in assuming you are certified in wizard space expansion?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Pansy was telling me about the work you’d done for them. That’s how I found your services.”

Draco folded his hands behind his back and regarded Potter for a beat before he continued.

“I think I’d like to have an Expanded tub.”

Potter sat back down on the edge of the tub and ran his fingers along the side of it, leaning over to peer down at the drain inside. When he straightened up he shrugged and nodded.

“Sure, but that will take a bit of time to sort out. There’s some rune work that goes into the blueprint of the space you want expanded,” Potter said. “I’ll need to run a full spectrum of spells to be sure this tub can handle the expansion.”

“Time isn’t a priority.” Draco waved a hand.

If he was lucky, the remodeling project would take weeks and he could enjoy his addiction to Potter’s company that much longer. Perhaps even long enough to get Potter out from under his skin.

*******

Potter showed up two days later with three different blueprints rolled under his arm, as eager as Draco had ever seen him. His expression was full of excitement when Draco let him in and led him towards the bathroom. Potter was already talking quickly and gesturing animatedly, waving the plans around.

“I got a little ahead of myself once I started planning out the possibilities with the space you have available in the bathroom,” Potter was explaining. “I’m partial to the third option myself, but I think you’re going to like the second one.”

“Well, show me, then,” Draco said, waving with his hand once they reached the bedroom.

It was almost impossible to avoid the warmth blooming in his chest in the face of Potter’s earnest excitement. Draco had to glance away when he couldn’t keep the charmed smile off his face. Potter didn’t seem to notice as he stepped over to the bed. Draco slowly let his gaze slide back to watch. He bit his lip when Potter began spreading out the plans he’d brought and pointing out different features before he’d even unrolled them completely.

“See, with this one I’d be able to work in an additional Extension Charm to allow for jacuzzi features. But if you want to do this plan—” here Potter ran his fingers over another blueprint “—I can add an addition that would work like a modified Bubble-Head Charm so that you could have a built-in steam room inside the bathroom.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. Potter’s plans impressed him. As he scanned each one he noticed more and more high end amenities, far above what his current master bathroom offered.

He bumped his shoulder against Potter’s as they stood close, leaning over the blueprints spread over his bed. Potter was warm and solid, and Draco caught a whiff of pine and cedar clinging to Potter’s t-shirt.

The touch sent a small shiver of excitement through him as he realised he had Potter in his bedroom, practically on his bed. It would be so easy to just nudge Potter down onto the coverlet, to crawl over his body and rain kisses down wherever he could reach. Draco’s lids drooped almost closed as he admired the muscular line of Potter’s neck out of the corner of his eye while Potter leaned over the bathroom plans. He licked his tongue along his bottom lip delicately and imagined how Potter’s golden brown skin would taste, and the sounds he might make if Draco kissed him lightly or with a hungry firmness. He could almost see how Potter might move beneath him and his breath caught in his throat.

“So what do you think?” Potter asked, snapping Draco out of his fantasy.

“How can I pick? You’ve given me so many options,” Draco said after a few beats, trying to shake away the thoughts of Potter bending to his will.

It occurred to him that if he wanted Potter—and he very much did, even he could admit that to himself at this point—that he would have to put some more effort than contracting Potter to remodel his entire home. He glanced back over the plans for the bathroom project and considered each of them thoughtfully, trying to work out which would take the longest to complete.

“Will you do the remodeling all on your own? You don’t have a team of workers to help you for something like this?” Draco asked. “Only, it seems a bit outside the scope of a Magi-Handyman to complete alone.”

Potter shook his head. “I’m able to complete something like this by myself. I’ve only ever needed a team when I had a request to build a custom house. You can’t even imagine the amount of magic required to build a wizarding home.”

Draco never really considered that, having grown up in his family’s estate home. He hummed in interest.

“Well no matter which of these I decide on, I think I’ll need to also have the room painted and perhaps you could tend to the vanity as well,” Draco said, a tinge of hope creeping into his voice.

“That will change the proposal quote,” Potter said cautiously. Draco shrugged, uncaring.

“Can you do one of those floating vanities? I hear they’re all the rage now.”

Potter ran a hand over the back of his neck, peeking at Draco out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, no problem.”

Draco smiled, pleased. “Wonderful. Let’s go with option three, then.”

Potter smiled back and gathered the plans from the bed. He looked bright and happy and Draco just wanted to reach out and touch his fingers to Potter’s lips. “I think you’re really going to like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said quietly. Draco wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the bathroom results.

They were caught in a long look, neither of them moving to break it.

“Um, so I’ll just get started then,” Potter said finally. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward the bathroom.

“Right,” Draco murmured, trailing after him. It almost felt like Potter had an invisible chain connecting them; he needed to be near him. “I was thinking blue for the wall colour. Something muted.”

“Sure,” Potter agreed as he flicked his wand, levitating the selected project plan near the window. “If you go to the closest Muggle B&Q to pick out your paint, I should be done with the preliminary work here by the time you get back.”

“Very well. I should think I don’t have to tell you not to touch anything whilst I’m gone?” Draco teased. He winked and ducked out of the bathroom at the wry look Potter shot him.

“I’m going to make off with all of your silver, Malfoy,” Potter called after him.

Draco grabbed his keys from the bowl he kept by the front door and left his home with a broad smile on his face.

*******

“You’ve gotten quite a bit done, haven’t you?” Draco commented after Potter had been at work for a few hours, poking his head into the doorway.

It was the second Saturday after Draco had signed the contracting scroll. After the first few days, Potter seemed to be around constantly and Draco was growing more comfortable with him being there, even going so far as leaving him to work while Draco spent time in his study. Draco had opted to bring more of his workload home to monitor the progress on the bathroom.

Potter glanced up from the paperwork he was rifling through, his wand sticking out of his low-slung utility belt. Draco’s eyes darted down and noticed that his lower lip looked slightly rosy, likely from Potter’s habit of chewing on his lip when he was lost in his thoughts.

“Hi,” Potter greeted with a lopsided smile. “Did you need to get something else out of here?”

Draco shook his head, clearing his throat. He had already used that excuse twice the first week to have a reason to enter the bathroom with Potter, trying to prolong small talk.

“Ah, no. I believe I have everything I’ll need. Anything else can be shrunk and put in the storage trunk in the corner.” Draco gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “Actually, I was wondering if you were getting hungry. It’s nearly lunch. Would you like to join me?”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, his eyes impossibly bright. Draco’s breath caught at the sight of him. “Alright, that sounds good. Let me just—”

Potter gestured towards the new vanity that was getting installed. Draco hummed in response and began to turn away, his eyes lingering on the way Potter’s beat up jeans hugged Potter’s arse when he bent over.

“Certainly. I’ll just—be downstairs in the kitchen. Are sandwiches acceptable?”

Draco nearly tripped over the tufted leather ottoman that stood at the foot of his bed in the master bedroom, his attention still fixated on Potter.

Potter made a vague sound in the affirmative and grunted as he crouched in front of the vanity. Draco swallowed and strode quickly from the bedroom, shaking his head to clear the fog that seemed to stick to his brain like molasses every time he was around Potter in his work clothes.

By the time Potter made it downstairs, Draco had finished putting together deli sandwiches. He was licking a stray dollop of mustard from between his thumb and pointer finger and flushed at being caught in such a common act.

Potter paused for the span of a heartbeat at the entrance to the kitchen, his gaze flicking down and tracking Draco’s tongue as it flicked out to lap up the rogue condiment.

“Here,” Draco offered, wiping his hand on a dishtowel and sliding a plate across the counter. “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Thanks. Er, do you have pumpkin juice?” Potter sat down at the kitchen table and took a large bite out of the sandwich, making a pleased sound while he chewed. When he finished his bite he looked down at the sandwich with a warm, appreciative expression. “This is really good.”

“It’s a sandwich, Potter, not a gourmet meal.” Draco pulled out two bottles of pumpkin juice and tapped his wand on the caps to open them. He placed one down at Potter’s elbow and sat across from him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, only the clink of the bottles filling the room when they put them down after each sip.

Draco was fishing around for something to talk about to fill the quiet when he noticed that Potter had a stray bit of mustard on his lip from the sandwich. He gestured to his own mouth to point it out. “You’ve, er…some mustard on your lip.”

Potter swiped at his face, missing it completely.

“No, it’s just,” Draco said as he reached out without thinking, smearing it away with his own fingers. The corner of Potter’s lip was stubbly and scratched against his fingertips. Draco blinked after a moment; it occurred to him that he had just reached over and touched Potter without much thought about it. “Um, there.”

Potter looked amused, his eyes crinkling with the smile he was trying to contain. “Going to lick that one up, too?”

Potter was teasing him, Draco realised. He let out an embarrassed huff of laughter and wiped his hands clean. It was enough to break the awkward silence between them.

“Potter, you mentioned before that you became interested in magical repair work when you volunteered to rebuild Hogwarts,” Draco started. Potter chewed another bite of sandwich and let his fingers loosely circle the bottle of pumpkin juice. He looked effortlessly relaxed and casual in a way that made Draco’s trousers go a bit tight. “Tell me more about that. I’m curious about how one goes from little knowledge of these things to the expert you seem to be in such a short amount of time.”

“Oh, well,” Potter said modestly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m not much of an expert. I have to consult with others when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve been able to solve all of my problems so far,” Draco pointed out before leaning back in his chair to study Potter. “Was it working on the house you were left that made you more curious about the line of work, or the magic it took to put Hogwarts back together?”

Potter paused to mull his answer over. “Repairing Hogwarts and fixing up the house were both pretty important in getting me going. They were both the only homes I’d ever really had.”

Draco waited for Potter to elaborate more on that, but he wasn’t forthcoming. “The house was left to you?”

“Yeah, by Sirius Black. He was my godfather,” Potter said.

“I see,” Draco said. The Black estate in London, then. Not that Draco knew much more about it than that, just what his mother had told him stories of. “Do you still live there?”

Potter nodded and finished off his pumpkin juice. Draco stood to fetch another, and a bag of crisps that he kept hidden in the back of his cupboard. When he sat back down Potter reached for the bag and hummed when he popped a salty crisp into his mouth.

“The most difficult part of fixing it up was getting the ancient magic to cooperate with the updates I wanted to make after I got the place to be livable again,” Potter continued. “It was finicky, especially at first. I swear I had to take down the wallpaper in the sitting room three times before the house allowed the change to stick. It did appreciate when I restored the old rafters and beams, though.”

Draco hummed along in response at the right intervals as he took another sip of juice. “So when you completed the project and had a proper house for yourself, what did you do next? How did you make the jump from that to full-blown Magi-Handyman?”

“Oh, well after I’d done Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron wanted me to help out with the apartment they moved into on Diagon Alley. After that it was learning about wizarding kitchens from Mrs Weasley, and then Neville wanted some help expanding his conservatory at his gran’s house.” Potter sighed contentedly, pushing the bag of crisps towards Draco and leaned his elbow on the table, propping his head up with his hand and reminiscing about those first few projects.

“You seem to enjoy your work,” Draco said after a short lull in their conversation. The smile that stretched across Potter’s face was slow and it made Draco warm and pleased.

“It makes me happy,” Potter said. “I like helping people, and this is just a different way to do it than most people expected of me.”

“Well, I certainly appreciate your help and expertise,” Draco said with a small smile. He raised his bottle in a toast. “To doing the expected in a totally unexpected way.”

Potter clinked his bottle to Draco’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

“We’ll have to have a proper drink sometime, then,” Draco added, licking stray drops of juice from his lips after he took a swig from the bottle. Potter’s eyes darted down to his mouth and he hummed in response.

“We might do,” Potter murmured.

They fell into a comfortable silence in the comfort of Draco’s kitchen.

*******

There was paint on Potter’s face.

And on his fingertips, smudged there like dried ink. It shouldn’t be distracting to Draco—hell, it shouldn’t even be that surprising that Potter was getting paint on himself when he insisted on painting the Muggle way—and yet…

Draco had been surprised to find out that Potter was adamant about not using magic to paint a room. When Draco questioned him about it, Potter only insisted that it messed with the colour and the drying process. He also mentioned that he found painting to be soothing, and Draco had shut up after that. Draco didn’t even know what he was making a fuss about it in the first place—after all, Potter painting the Muggle way meant that Potter would take that much longer to work on Draco’s contract.

But now Potter was trying to explain something important to him about the moon cycles and the runes drawn on the side of his bathtub, and Draco was having a hell of a time paying attention when all he could focus on were the dried flecks of Polaris Blue at Potter’s temple and smudged on his chin.

“Malfoy?” Potter asked for the third time. Draco blinked several times and inhaled sharply through his nose.

“What?”

“Are you clear that you need to hang the dried Boomslang in the doorway and not come in here for a full day?”

“Mhm,” Draco hummed distractedly, his eyes straying to Potter’s paint speckled fingers.

They were well shaped and thick, the perfect size for fingering someone open until it was just this side of teasing, just this side of _not quite enough_ against their stretched rim. Draco inhaled again, shuddering pleasantly, and let his breath out in a whoosh of air. Circe’s bloody tits, he was starting to get so desperate that even staring at Potter’s fingers was making him restless and randy. He was just obsessed with Potter’s hands in general; he seemed to be good with them, and Draco just wanted them on his body. He felt like he needed to sneak away for a quick and dirty wank in the second bathroom just to clear his head a bit.

“You’ve been very much a space cadet today,” Potter murmured, closer than he was before. Draco closed his eyes and imagined Potter was even closer, near enough to feel the heat of Potter’s breath against his cheek.

“What’s a space cadet?” Draco asked, eyes still closed.

“Muggle thing. They’ve been to the moon, you know,” Potter explained. Draco hummed in response. Potter sounded like he was shuffling closer, or so Draco was enjoying the imaginary notion that he was, as long as he kept his eyes closed. “Hermione’s got me saying it all the time now. Means you’re lost in your own little world and you’re not paying attention.”

Draco swore he felt the hair on his arm prickling, anticipating Potter’s fingers reaching out towards him. He turned his face towards Potter’s voice.

“Are these cadets attractive?” Draco asked, his voice lilting and echoing against the tile in the bathroom.

Potter snorted and Draco finally opened his eyes. Potter was closer than he’d been before, but not by much.

Maybe it was Potter’s magic Draco had sensed reaching out to him instead of his fingers.

Potter was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he packed away the paint can, the last section of wall finally painted in the slate blue that Draco had selected. Draco watched as he spelled the brush clean—apparently Potter wasn’t above using magic to clean up after painting. He raised an eyebrow at the clean brush and Potter shrugged, pocketing the paintbrush and palming his wand to Summon the rest of his tools from where they were spread out around the room.

“Well, are they? I want to know whether I’m among worthy company with the cadets,” Draco pressed instead, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Potter glanced up at him through his lashes and his heart skipped a beat when Potter looked at him that way.

“Sure,” Potter said. “They come off all prickly and you expect them to be over-educated twats at first, but yeah, once you get to know them I think they’re quite good looking. For people who go all soft eyed and can’t pay attention to important recommendation from their handyman when the state of their bathroom project depends on it, that is.”

Potter smirked at him and snapped a freshly cleaned paint rag in his direction. Draco had been preening at the description of how attractive Potter clearly found him until he’d whipped the rag at him.

“Oi!” Draco blurted. “Watch it, Potter.”

Potter had been flirting back with him more openly like this since the start of the bathroom contract, but nothing more had come of it. Despite the flirting, Potter remained mostly professional, no matter what buttons Draco pressed.

Draco, on the other hand, has wanked himself nearly raw to varied thoughts of Potter in his dungarees, a wet t-shirt, and the torn jeans—worn and hanging low on hips that Draco wanted to lick.

He made a point of wearing his finest outfits when Potter was around in the hopes that he might give Potter a taste of what he was missing out on. He had half a mind to make sure he was caught in the middle of a compromising position when he knew Potter was due to arrive to begin his work on the bathroom, but Draco had shoved that idea aside for being amateur and lacking the finesse needed to snag Potter.

He was sure he had Potter when he told him he was going to soak in the guest bath while Potter worked. Draco had felt Potter’s eyes on him from afar as he stretched languidly, slowly removing articles of clothing until he was bare and angling his body to show off his best assets. He’d run a hand through his hair to hide his face as he peeked out of the corner of his eye. Draco had caught Potter’s gaze straying towards his arse.

But that hadn’t worked, either. Draco sat in the tub until the warm water had cooled; by the time he got out he was pruned and wrinkled, and Potter was gone for the day.

Instead, they appeared to be in a holding pattern of light flirting and making eyes at each other every time Potter was around.

Draco yelped, the _crack_ of the rag whipping near his hip bringing him out of his thoughts abruptly. Potter had a mischievous look on his face as he twirled the rag once more.

Draco surveyed Potter’s stance now that his work for the day was complete; he was poised to playfully strike out at him again with the rag. It seemed he was ready to fool around with Draco once again, continuing the flirtation cycle, but never doing anything to break the pattern. Draco stared him down, his eyes drawn again to the specks of dried paint on Potter’s face. Anticipation welled up in him as he readied himself.

“You might have been a brilliant Seeker before, Potter, but I assure you I’m the only one of the pair of us who has kept up with his agility. You will lose this game if you continue,” Draco warned jokingly, gesturing to the paint rag in Potter’s hand.

Potter’s smirk stretched into a grin. “I think we’re pretty well matched.”

When Potter made to snap the rag at him again, Draco darted forward and closed one hand over Potter’s wrist and the other on the rag, tugging it towards him. They both laughed as they struggled against each other. Potter’s chest brushed against Draco’s, and they each tried to trip each other.

Draco marveled at how soft Potter’s skin felt, and he wanted to explore more of it. He was bold enough to let his fingers skate up Potter’s arm, acting like he was only going to shove Potter away and steal the rag in the playful struggle.

“Malfoy, wait, the runes—” Potter easily steered them both away from the tub and led them in the other direction.

The sunlight was fading in the late afternoon sky, the last rays of warm orange light cutting bright paths across his room as Potter maneuvered Draco backward with a brightness to his green eyes that promised mischief. Draco’s heartbeat kicked up excitedly, thinking this was it—Potter was going to make a move. It was the perfect moment to initiate a kiss. He eagerly pictured Potter scooping him up in his strong hold and tossing him back onto the bed before he crawled over Draco and made a number of his incessant dreams come true. Draco licked his lips as he waited for the moment to happen.

“I’ll be back the same time Sunday, yeah? Don’t forget about the Boomslang skin, otherwise the cycle will have to be started fresh.”

Instead of doing what every fibre of Draco’s body wanted him to do, Potter turned to collect his work bag and nodded to Draco as he left the room. Draco slumped as he heard the front door close.

“How much more obvious can I possibly be?” Draco asked to the empty bedroom, running a hand through his hair in agitation and pent up energy. He sighed raggedly and went to gather the dried Boomslang skins from the kitchen to hang them how Potter had instructed.

*******

The endless cycle of flirting never changed, but by the time the remodeling project was drawing to a close, Draco was determined to break it. He’d had it with playing games with Potter—he was tired of the increasingly lonely, empty feeling he was left with each night when he was alone in his house.

Despite his frustration with Potter’s lack of follow through on all of the openings Draco had given, he was quite pleased with the results of the bathroom.

The muted shade of blue set off the new porcelain basin sink that perched on the floating granite vanity Potter installed with special wards and a permanent levitation spell. The tub appeared to look the same as it had before, only with updated fixtures to match the shining silver of the sink. Draco knew that it had many new luxury features, and that it was an expanded bath.

Draco couldn’t believe he hadn’t opted to start a project like this the minute he’d moved in. Even though he lived in a home that was outfitted the Muggle way, there was still much to be said for wizarding amenities.

“You know, Potter, I am really quite happy with how this bathroom has come along under your care,” Draco praised. He pressed off the doorway, where he’d been leaning and admiring the way the sunlight spilled into the room and brightened it.

Potter was kneeling by the bath with his wand pointed at the base. Silvery swirls of magic were running down the side of the tub and disappearing into the seal where the floor met the bottom of the tub. He looked up at Draco’s words and his face seemed radiant.

“I’m glad. Wait until you actually try the tub.” Potter finished the spell he was casting and hauled himself to his feet with a quiet groan that made Draco want to pin him to the nearest available surface and pull that sound out of him again and again.

“So, the spellwork is completed, all that’s left to do is run through a test of all of the features to make sure it’s all working correctly,” Potter said, stretching and popping his back. Draco admired his body.

“Does that mean you’re going to take a bath?” Draco questioned with a flirtatious leer. “You’re right, there is some draw to being a Magi-Handyman. Where can I sign myself up?”

Potter laughed, the cheerful sound echoing. “Could you imagine, the pair of us partnering up?”

“I imagine it often, actually,” Draco admitted, stepping closer. Potter’s double-entendres were going to make Draco’s plan easy to execute.

“I don’t know, Malfoy,” Potter said with a smile that seemed nearly fond around the soft edges. “All I can see is you bossing me around and never getting any work done.”

“Well, if you’re going to prance around in distracting uniforms…” Draco trailed off and smirked. “Or without your shirt on at all, if there’s plumbing involved.”

“That was one time,” Potter protested, a wry look on his face as he tucked his wand away. “Besides, I’ve only had my shirt off, but you’re the one who basically stripped in front of me, you know.”

“Ah, so you _were_ watching.” Draco tilted his head to the side to consider Potter. “There was a purpose behind that. I wanted you to look.”

Potter paused in gathering his workbag and gaped at Draco. His gaze darted around the room once, as if he were double-checking that they were alone, before he met the piercing look Draco was giving him.

“Er,” Potter blurted eloquently, clearly thrown off balance by Draco’s admission. “Malfoy?”

Draco took another step closer, feeling bold going after what he’d been wanting. “Yes, Potter?”

“Malfoy, er, you…” Potter stumbled on his words as Draco came to a stop in front of him.

They were evenly matched in height, and if Draco leaned in their noses would brush together. He let his head tip forward, just slightly. Draco’s expression stretched into a self-satisfied smirk when Potter actually squeaked at their proximity.

Potter didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They were twitching up, hovering, and then dropping by his sides, swinging uselessly before he shoved them in his deep pockets. Potter cleared his throat and shuffled back until he bumped against the floating vanity.

Despite how flustered Draco was making him, Potter still couldn’t keep his eyes off of Draco’s mouth.

“You’ve been surprising me at every turn since your first service call,” Draco murmured as he closed the distance between them fully, brushing their chests together. “Well, actually…you’ve been driving me insane, Potter. I kept thinking you would…but then you wouldn’t, and you kept leaving. It’s time I make it clear to you.”

“Make what clear?” Potter whispered, like he was afraid to break the moment blossoming between them.

Draco studied Potter’s face and reached up to brush his fingertips gently along Potter’s plump bottom lip. Potter’s lips parted on a quiet gasp. Draco moved his fingers up to trace the line of Potter’s stubble up his cheek. He ended his exploration by tucking a lock of stray hair behind Potter’s ear, earning a soft sigh.

Their eyes locked and Draco made Potter wait, counting the heartbeats until Potter uttered a strained sound in the back of his throat. He left Potter hanging for another beat before leaning in and closing the gap between them.

When their lips pressed together, Draco nearly sagged against Potter. He grinned into the kiss when he felt Potter’s hands come up hesitantly, cupping his elbows for a moment before drawing him closer and kissing him back. Draco moved his lips against Potter’s and sucked that plump bottom lip that had been driving him mad into his own mouth, running his tongue along it.

Potter inhaled sharply through his nose and pulled back enough to break the kiss. His cheeks were tinged with the beginnings of a flush and his green eyes were so bright. He searched for something to say, holding Draco back so there was a small space between them.

“I…we shouldn’t. I’m…working for you,” he said haltingly. His voice was filled with reluctance.

Exasperation crashed through Draco and he tensed, still standing in the circle of Potter’s arms. It took him a second to even find words worthy of getting his point across to Potter.

“Are you being serious right now, Potter?” Draco snapped. He closed the space between them again, bringing their chests together once more. “You’re my fix-it man, not my bloody Healer. There’s _nothing_ unethical happening here, just two people who are obviously attracted to each other and exploring that further. You’ve flirted back with me all this bloody time—were you really so unaware that this was a possibility?”

Potter blinked at him, surprise writ across his face. Draco nearly rolled his eyes; Potter really _was_ oblivious if even telling the fool they were both attracted to each other wasn’t getting through to him.

“You’re sure?” Potter’s eyes darted down to Draco’s lips, his tongue flicking out to wet his own. “I mean, I know it’s not as if I’m an authority figure abusing the power dynamic, but still, I don’t want you to feel—”

“Of course I’m sure, Potter! Merlin, stop being so irritatingly noble! For fuck’s sake, if anyone is abusing what little power dynamic there is right now, it’s me as the one who contracted you for the work you’ve done.” Draco huffed, trying to shake the frustration away and re-capture the perfect feeling of their kiss from a minute ago.

Potter went quiet after Draco cut off whatever drivel had been about to spout out of his mouth. Draco eyed Potter with narrowed eyes. “Now, are you going to come back here and kiss me, or not?”

Potter actually seemed to be mulling it over, as if there was really anything to consider. Draco nearly threw another strop, but he was pleasantly surprised when Potter met his gaze, his eyes blazing with heat. Draco raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Potter carefully slid his arms around Draco’s waist, letting his hands trail down the line of Draco’s back and over his arse. He watched Draco’s reaction with a hungry gaze as he squeezed and massaged Draco, pulling him more firmly against his solid chest.

“Good decision,” Draco said before leaning in for another kiss.

This time it was different than the soft way their mouths had moved together before. Now Potter kissed him back with more intention, taking control and bringing a hand up to cup the back of Draco’s head, his fingers running through his hair and tugging to angle Draco’s head differently. Draco swayed against Potter’s body and his breath hitched at the first touch of Potter’s tongue sliding hotly against his lips. Draco opened his mouth and sucked it in.

Draco took some control back, bringing both of his hands up to each side of Potter’s jaw and kissing him deeper, moving their tongues together. He stroked Potter’s face softly, running his fingers down his neck and circling back up to bury both of his hands in the thick, messy hair he’d been dreaming of.

Potter made a rumbling sound under his breath that made warmth bloom across Draco’s skin as he shifted, lifting Draco up in his strong arms.

Draco moaned at Potter’s display of strength as his feet left the ground. He flailed for a moment, kicking at the air as he struggled to wrap his long legs around Potter’s hips, until Potter hitched him higher in his arms, tightening the arm that held his arse.

Potter squeezed the back of Draco’s thigh, and Draco curled his body over Potter’s, leaning back down into his space so that they remained connected by their kiss. He rolled his hips, rutting against Potter’s abs and pulled Potter’s lip between his teeth.

Potter squeezed Draco tighter against his body and walked out of the bathroom, carrying Draco. He paused outside, in the bedroom, pressing Draco against the wall so that Draco had more leverage to frot against the hard edges and curves of Potter’s body.

“God, Potter,” Draco gasped as Potter leaned in to mouth tantalizingly at Draco’s neck. “Why have you been holding out on me?”

Potter dragged his teeth across the sensitive skin of his neck and sucked hard, making Draco arch back against the wall and sending a throb of pleasure to his rapidly rising cock.

“We could’ve…been having this much fun…all along,” Draco panted, rolling his hips against Potter.

“Mm,” Potter mumbled against Draco’s neck. He pulled back and looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “We can have fun now, though. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” Draco agreed readily. “Yes, I want that. Let’s have some fun.”

Potter adjusted his hold on Draco and swung him away from the wall, walking backwards towards the bed. Draco held on tight, teasingly circling his hips as he smirked down at Potter. When the back of his legs hit the edge, Potter flopped back onto the mattress so that Draco landed in a straddle over his body.

Draco sat up and ran his hands over Potter’s broad shoulders and down his chest. “My, my…I seem to have a very attractive wizard handyman in my bedroom. Whatever shall I do with him?”

Potter played along, shuffling and bucking until they were both further up the bed. “I’m here, at your service. I can meet all of your needs.”

Draco snorted and hunched over. “That was awful, Potter. Where on earth did you learn to play porn dialogue so terribly?”

Potter grinned and shrugged, lifting a hand to brushed Draco’s loose fringe aside. “What would you rather I say?”

“Why don’t you just say what you mean?” Draco let himself fall farther so that he could kiss Potter again.

Potter sighed contentedly, sliding his fingers through Draco’s hair and holding him close as their mouths pressed together in a kiss that faded from hungry to sensuously slow as they explored each other. They rolled over, remaining connected as they changed positions, ending with Potter caging him in as he held himself over Draco’s body.

Draco hooked a leg over Potter’s hip and rocked against the firm bulge straining against Potter’s jeans. From what Draco could tell, he must be big. He was eager to open the flies of those jeans and find out, to run his fingers over Potter’s cock and feel the heat of it in his hands.

His mouth flooded with a rush of saliva and his whole body tingled with how much he wanted that—how much he wanted everything with Potter.

“Your hair is so soft,” Potter said as he brushed his fingers through it again, propping himself up on his forearm.

He let his palm skim down, following Draco’s neck and dragging across his chest to tug at his collar. “Will you take this off?”

“Gladly,” Draco laughed, fingers already moving quickly over the buttons and revealing more of his pale skin.

Potter’s eyes gleamed as each inch of the shirt was opened, his hands impatiently exploring, pushing the shirt fully aside and ghosting over the dusting of chest hair he had. His eyes flickered as they swept over Draco’s bare chest, seeming to search his skin.

“If you’re looking for permanent scars, don’t bother. Dittany took care of that,” Draco said quietly.

Potter’s eyes snapped back up to his, full of guilt, and it was enough to make Draco’s erection flag. He sighed and tugged at a curl hanging in Potter’s face.

“Don’t give me that look. We both were idiots that night—no, don’t even open your mouth. You’re about to ruin a perfectly enjoyable bit of snogging and veering dangerously close to me kicking you out of this bed on your arse,” Draco chided. Potter blinked at him with wide eyes.

“But—” Potter got in before Draco cut him off again, tugging harder on the curl and enjoying the way it made Potter wince slightly.

“Don’t be a bore, Potter,” Draco said commandingly. “You’ve made my prick go soft just looking at your pathetic one person pity party, you utter prat. Are you seriously telling me you want to dredge up one of the numerous ugly things we did to each other when we were stupid and young instead of getting off with me right now? You know, we also saved each other’s lives. Let’s call it even and stop living in the past.”

Potter blinked again, opening and closing his mouth twice, before he said disbelievingly, “You’re very strange, you know. You’re different from what I expected.”

“You still haven’t learned that yet, after spending so much time in my house lately?” Draco questioned with a quirked mouth. He settled back against the mattress and wrapped both of his legs tighter around Potter’s hips, pressing up. “I’m bored of this, so excite me again, if you would.”

“Oh, if I would? Am I back under your command, then?” Potter joked.

“Obviously. Keep up, Potter.” Draco winked and craned his neck to steal another kiss, which seemed to be effective in shutting him up.

Potter settled between Draco’s legs, reaching down to hitch one of them higher so that their groins were lined up. Potter squeezed Draco’s thigh as he rubbed against Draco.

Draco inhaled through his nose and kissed Potter with a burning hunger as his body rose to meet every move Potter made. They melded together, snogging like they were a pair of hormonal teenagers, until they were both panting and warm.

Potter broke away to catch his breath. “Are we really going to do this now?”

“Yes. Yes we are,” Draco said, taking hold of Potter’s chin. “Because I’ve been wanking myself raw thanks to your _dungarees_ and _utility belt_.”

Potter’s answering grin bordered on wolfish, all predatory and promising Draco a good time.

“I just want to fuck,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Potter agreed, his voice dropping into a low rumble.

They rolled around the bed and pulled at each other’s clothes until Draco was down to his pants and Potter had his jeans open and slouching low on his hips. Draco’s hand was down his trousers and rubbing over Potter’s length with teasing strokes, learning each of the sounds he could get Potter to make.

Potter sucked and bit his way in a meandering trail down the column of Draco’s neck and across his chest, pausing to circle is tongue around each of Draco’s nipples until they were pebbled. Potter pressed his thick cock harder against Draco’s hand and pinched one of Draco’s nipples, earning himself a startled gasp.

Draco’s fingers scrabbled at Potter’s jeans, pushing them further down his hips so he could free Potter’s dick from the confines of his pants. When he had both pushed down Potter’s hairy legs, he marveled at the beautiful specimen of Potter’s cock. It hung low between Potter’s legs. He hunched over, hiding his shy flush by burying his face against Draco’s stomach.

“No need to be coy,” Draco said as he smoothed a hand over the back of Potter’s head. “Lie back, Potter. I’m going to suck that beautiful cock you’ve got.”

“Okay,” Potter mumbled, failing to keep a straight face. His eagerness was plain as day while he maneuvered himself into a comfortable position. “Wait—can you take your pants off, too? I want to see you first.”

Draco smirked and kneeled up, his thumbs hooking in the elastic of his briefs. He slid them back and forth under the band, making Potter’s heated gaze track him.

“Stop being such a tease,” Potter complained, folding his hands behind his head and arching his hips up so that his prick bobbed in the air.

“Just making sure you’re paying attention,” Draco said. He shucked his pants with a quick, fluid motion and posed proudly for Potter.

He bent in half and prowled over Potter on his hands and knees, hovering above him. Potter reached up and pulled him down so that their bare skin touched. Draco hissed and turned his head to capture Potter’s lips with his own, his body undulating against Potter.

Draco gasped into Potter’s mouth when his hands shot down to grip Draco’s hips, directing the rhythm and making their cocks slide together with a delicious, sticky-slick slide. When the friction made Draco too excited, he tore his mouth away and shimmied down to re-position himself above Potter’s cock.

He could smell Potter’s heady musk and his own body responded in kind, making heat coil in his gut. Draco leaned down and brushed his lips against the crown, enjoying the velvety softness.

“Go on,” Potter said encouragingly.

He closed his lips around Potter’s cock and his eyes fluttered shut. Draco sucked Potter further into his mouth and bobbed his head, quickly sinking even lower on Potter’s length.

“God, that’s brilliant,” Potter breathed, lifting his hips for more.

Draco hummed in response and curled his tongue around the ridges of Potter’s dick. He worked his mouth over the head as he sucked up and bobbed down until he felt the tip brushing against the back of his throat. Potter made a multitude of wonderful sounds as Draco sucked his cock.

“Wait, shit,” Potter said quickly, curling up and nudging Draco’s head. “If you keep that up, I won’t last. S’too good.”

Draco pulled off with a wet pop and wiped the slick corners of his mouth where his saliva had leaked out. Potter was on him in an instant, pouncing on him and pinning him to the bed.

Potter’s cock rubbed against his own. Draco’s head fell back against the mattress as he arched and twisted back to reach for the bedside table.

“Lube,” Draco said, his eloquence leaving him completely when Potter found another one of his sensitive spots with his clever tongue. “It’s just there. Can you…?”

Potter waved his hand without even breaking away from the juncture of Draco’s neck. The muted sound of the tube smacking into Potter’s waiting palm made Draco shudder. If Potter kept up with the displays of wandless magic, this would be over quickly.

Draco had apparently developed a kink.

Or maybe it was just Potter that did it for him.

Potter opened the cap and squeezed the gel onto two fingers, rubbing his thumb over it to get his digits wet.

“Do you care which way we do this?” Potter asked, searching Draco’s face.

“I switch,” Draco said. He spread his legs and tilted his hips up, the tip of his cock catching and dragging along Potter’s abdomen and leaving a sticky streak of pre-come. “I want your cock in my arse right now. Split me open.”

Potter’s breath left him in a rush. He swooped down to press a quick, fierce kiss to Draco’s lips while he grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Draco’s raised bum.

“You’re sure?” Potter checked, leaning back with a hopelessly noble expression. “I don’t want to be pressuring you into something, just because we’ve gotten this far doesn’t mean—”

“Circe’s fucking tits, Potter, put your fingers in my arse, you utter bell end!” Draco said with wide eyes, completely exasperated all over again. “I give my full and enthusiastic consent for you to fuck me rotten. Are we clear?”

“Er, yeah,” Potter said, abashed. “Crystal.”

Potter stroked one hand along Draco’s thigh and teased his fingers in a trail down from Draco’s balls to his hole, circling them over Draco’s furled rim and gliding back up. Potter watched his face raptly, changing directions and adding pressure when Draco’s breath hitched.

Draco hummed and let his eyes flutter closed as Potter continued to tease him, getting him to relax with careful touches. Draco’s body opened to him as easily as if they’d been together for years, trusting Potter to take care of him. His heart swelled with the thought, warmth blooming in his chest. His eyes squeezed tighter for a moment and he bit his lip as Potter added more lubricant to his slick fingers and finally worked one inside.

Draco spread his legs further to give Potter more room, curling his hips up when Potter’s finger slid deeper, slowly dragging and stroking back out. Draco’s eyes opened again; he wanted to watch. Potter’s face was etched in concentration as he twisted his hand and added a second finger, just as gently as the first.

“You don’t have to be so soft with me, you know,” Draco said. “I’m not going to break.”

“I just want to make you feel good,” Potter said after a beat, meeting his gaze and making Draco’s stomach flip over.

“You are,” Draco told him, giving up on fighting the fond tone that crept into his voice. “But if you’re going to split me open on that big cock of yours, you’re going to have to put your back into it.”

The corner of Potter’s mouth quirked up and he drove his fingers in again, harder this time, and Draco’s body gave a pleasant shudder. Potter did it again, holding his fingers deep within Draco’s arse and twisting them.

“That’s more like it,” Draco said, short of breath as Potter picked up the pace. “Fuck my arse open with your fingers, Potter.”

He keened and gripped Draco’s thigh, his bronze fingers splayed over Draco’s pale skin. Draco grinned wickedly and clenched around Potter’s digits.

“Oh, that one’s new. Do you like it when I let filth out of my posh mouth for you?” Draco asked with a knowing smirk.

Potter made another rough sound and moved his hand from Draco’s thigh to circle around his cock, giving it a swift pull that had Draco’s breath stuttering out of him.

“I know those fingers aren’t nearly the size of your fat cock,” Draco said, breaking off when Potter started wanking his throbbing prick in earnest while he pumped his fingers in and out of Draco’s slick hole.

“I’ve been dreaming about it so often—about fucking you every time you’ve been here. In the bath…in the kitchen,” Draco babbled.

Potter grunted and pulled his fingers free, sitting back on his heels. “Normally I’d wait longer and get you nice and wet, but I can’t wait, Malfoy.”

He was nearly panting, his cock ruddy and straining as it bobbed in the air between Potter’s legs. He looked fucking gorgeous and Draco wanted to devour him.

“Say the spells, then. Do you know them?” Draco asked. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. “I don’t want to go slow.”

Draco glanced over to where his wand had been placed on the bedside table. He was about to reach over and grab it, but Potter beat him to it, nicking it for himself. Draco tensed for a moment, remembering the horrible feeling when Potter had ripped his own wand out of his hand before, so long ago. He wasn’t sure what he was up to; he eyed Potter warily.

Potter had one hand on his hip and gave the wand a test wave, beaming when a shower of golden sparks shot out of it. “Brilliant.”

“Potter?” Draco ventured.

Potter turned to Draco and his expression softened. “Ready?”

Draco nodded and shivered when Potter cast the spells to relax his muscles and protect both of them. Draco preferred the natural way—it was more fun, after all—but they both couldn’t wait.

Potter placed Draco’s wand back on the bedside table and slicked up his cock with the lube, getting it shiny and glistening. Draco almost wanted to make him stop just so he could suck it again, but then Potter was hooking a hand under one of Draco’s knees and rubbing the wet, spongy crown over Draco’s loosened hole.

Draco bit his lip and met Potter’s eyes as he pressed in, taking care to go slowly as the thick tip popped past the ring of muscle. Potter’s eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted in a silent sigh.

Potter changed his angle slightly and shifted his hips forward to slide another inch deeper. Draco was suddenly glad they’d used the spells to help them along—Potter was massive and he still had to focus on staying relaxed and open as he slowly worked his dick in.

“You feel perfect,” Potter muttered, his hand flexing on Draco’s leg. Draco could tell he was holding himself in check—he knew how it felt to sink into a warm, wet hole, and how great the need was to just slam inside with one thrust.

He flexed his hole around Potter’s prick and relished the way it made Potter twitch and jerk, thrusting shallowly. “Mm, you feel quite good yourself. Better than I imagined.”

When Potter was finally fully seated in his arse, he gave Draco time to adjust to the size of his cock filling him and stretching him. It felt divine; Draco savoured the burn as his body accommodated it.

Potter leaned in to press kisses wherever he could reach, and Draco twisted his head to meet them. He stroked his fingers over Draco’s cock, playing with his foreskin and wanking him with lazy pumps of his hand.

After several moments of kissing and shifting against each other with small movements, Draco felt he was ready and nodded to Potter.

“This has been wonderfully soppy, but I believe I said I needed you to _fuck me_ ,” Draco said. “Make me scream.”

Potter hummed in acknowledgement and pulled partially out, thrusting back in with a sharp movement. Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he lifted his leg higher so that it rested on Potter’s shoulder. Potter trailed his hand up his leg to grip his calf, anchoring it. He had a gleam in his eye as he pulled out, further than before, and rocked back in.

“Come on, Potter. That’s nothing. I want you to pound my arse until I can only see cross-eyed,” Draco goaded, playfully batting his foot against the side of Potter’s head.

“Just you wait,” Potter said.

“I thought the whole point of this is that I _didn’t_ want to wait?” Draco reminded him.

Potter adjusted his angle again and fucked into Draco’s arse with fluid motions, working into a steady rhythm that set Draco’s heartbeat racing and made ecstasy radiate through him.

“Fuck, yes,” Draco gasped, gripping the coverlet, “That’s better. Still not brilliant, but passable, I suppose.”

“Oh, I’ll give you passable,” Potter promised with a harder thrust that landed deep inside of him, making Draco cry out.

Draco put a hand over his head to brace himself against the headboard. Potter’s pumping hips and faster pace were scooting his entire body up the bed, nearly nudging him off of the pillow he was propped up on.

Potter spread his knees and dropped lower, grinding his cock into Draco with tight circles of his hips. The tip of his cock brushed over all of the right places and Draco writhed beneath him.

Draco rode the waves of pleasure that crashed through him each time Potter drove his cock deep into his arse. The electric heat that was building in him drew him closer and closer to falling over the edge into oblivion.

“Fuck my arse like you _mean it_ , Potter,” Draco barked, arching into Potter’s touch.

“I—am—you—demanding—tosser,” Potter bit out with each thrust.

His hand wrapped around Draco’s cock once more, pulling in time with the movements of his hips as he pounded his cock harder, deeper into Draco’s arse. Draco’s voice broke on a high-pitched whine when Potter hit his prostate, sending shocks of heady bliss zinging through him.

“Fuck!” Draco cried out as Potter grinned and did it again, keeping his angle perfect to make sure Draco was flung towards his release. Draco was shaking, his arse clenching around Potter’s thick length and his vision was going blurry. “Oh, fuck! Potter, don’t stop!”

Draco was so close to coming; his whole body was coiling with anticipation and heat, he could feel the flush tingling across his skin. Potter’s body gleamed with the sweat rolling down his chest, matting the wiry curls on his chest in some places as he gasped for each breath, his mouth hanging open.

His eyes were glued to Draco as his hips moved non-stop, undulating and rocking into Draco with a fiery passion.

“Come for me,” Potter begged.

He plunged his cock into Draco’s arse, staying deep and rutting the tip of his cock against Draco’s prostate. At the same time, he gripped Draco’s flushed dick in a firm grip with his sweaty hand and dragged his palm over the head perfectly.

Draco swore as he lost control, giving in to the eruption of heaven in his body. He shuddered, clenching around Potter’s cock as his own spurted in Potter’s hand. Potter stroked him through it, pumping Draco with lazy pulls as his come shot out in long strands all over his stomach and Potter’s fingers. His hungry gaze watched Draco raptly.

Draco panted as Potter slowed down his frantic thrusts, rocking into his body with languid movements while Draco came down from the high of release. Just as Potter was moving to pull out of his arse completely, Draco shot a hand out to stop him.

“Wait,” he said. “Can you finish on my stomach?”

Potter’s face flushed even darker than it already was from exertion, his expression shifting into shyness once more. “Yeah, alright.”

Potter pulled himself free with gentle movements, slowly sliding out of Draco’s arse with a slick sound. He lowered Draco’s leg, massaging his calf and thigh to work the blood flow back into it. Potter couldn’t be more of a perfect partner, Draco marveled as Potter ignored his own leaking erection in favour of making sure Draco was comfortable.

Draco propped himself up on his elbows and ran his hand down Potter’s chest. “Come all over me, Potter. Give me a good show.”

Potter snorted, but shifted closer on his knees and sat on his heels, his thighs spread open. Draco watched hungrily as Potter took himself in hand, flicking his thumb across his wet, ruddy head. Potter’s breath hitched and Draco filed that away for later, adding to his mental catalogue of ways to take Potter apart and wreck him for anyone else.

Potter licked his lips, his eyelids drooping and nearly fluttering closed as he kept his gaze on Draco. He pumped his cock slowly at first, then picked up the pace.

Draco cast the only wandless spell he had complete control over, aiming perfectly to make Potter’s hand slide more slickly over his cock. Potter blinked at him in surprise and Draco smirked in triumph.

“Everyone can do that one,” he said. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Potter said, his breath coming in short gasps as he teased himself, thumbing his foreskin and massaging the vein that ran the length on the underside.

Draco loved watching the way Potter’s stomach twitched, collapsing when he touched himself in a way that was particularly pleasant, and quivering as he brought himself closer to completion. He let his own fingers ghost over his nipples, plucking at one until it was standing at attention again. Potter made a ragged sound, biting hard into his plump lower lip, his hand picking up more speed until he was wanking in earnest.

“That’s it, Potter,” Draco encouraged in a soft tone. “Show me.”

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Potter said, groaning as he squeezed his dick in his grip.

He hunched over slightly, curling in on himself as he came, his cock shooting onto the cooling come on Draco’s abdomen and even splashing as high as Draco’s shoulder. Potter moaned faintly, fucking his fist to prolong the rush of pleasure. It was a beautiful sight.

Draco ran his fingers through their mixed come, smearing it across his stomach with a contented hum as Potter flopped next to him, bouncing slightly when he hit the bed.

“That was gorgeous,” Draco said, reaching over to brush Potter’s hair out of his face. “Thanks.”

Potter hummed in response, still catching his breath. He fumbled his hand around on the bed for a moment, before he gave up and snapped his fingers after a beat of concentration.

Draco felt magic clearing away the mess and the sweat from his body.

After the Cleaning Charm whispered across Draco’s skin, Potter flung a heavy arm across his body, hooking his leg over Draco’s to tangle them together. He settled against Draco’s side, still warm from their vigorous romp and smiled up at Draco shyly.

Draco savoured the afterglow of being well-fucked and ran a hand absently through the snags in his hair.

“Well, that was brilliant.” He reveled in the pleasant throbbing ache to his muscles while he slowly trailed his hand up and down Potter’s arm. “The payoff was quite worth how sexually frustrated I got when you wouldn’t make a fucking move.”

“Me? I thought you were just trying to be friendly,” Potter said, flicking the first spot he could reach on Draco’s body. “How was I supposed to know that you were really open to something like this?”

“Potter, I stripped in front of you and implied that I wanted you to join me in the guest bath,” Draco retorted with a disbelieving scoff. “You are completely oblivious, did you know?”

“Whatever,” Potter grumbled as he shifted to get more comfortable, nuzzling his jaw against Draco’s shoulder. “So, can I take you to dinner then? I’d like to do at least some of this in the proper order, if you’re amenable to that.”

“I’m quite amenable to dinner. I’d like to see you again—outside of my house, and in proper clothes,” Draco tacked on as an afterthought. “Though, I do appreciate your…wardrobe choices as a Magi-Handyman.”

“I told you, those are just clothes that are easy to move in, and things I won’t care if I get a little dirty.”

“Mm, yes, let’s get you dirty,” Draco said, humming pleasantly, picturing Potter in just the utility belt and the boots once again. There would be time for that later.

Just as he was about to suggest trying out the new bath features, Draco’s stomach growled loudly. Draco blinked at the ceiling and hurriedly covered his stomach with his free hand.

Potter snorted and buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck. He covered Draco’s hand with his own and rubbed soothingly.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I suppose I could eat,” Draco said, shrugging the shoulder where Potter was resting his head.

Potter rolled away and stood with a languid stretch. Draco looked at him appreciatively, his hand drifting down his body to give his cock a lazy squeeze.

“C’mon, you insatiable berk,” Potter said with his eyes crinkling. He reached across the bed and grabbed Draco’s ankle. He dragged him to the edge, only stopping just before Draco was pulled off. “There’ll be time for more of that. Let’s go eat.”

“Fine,” Draco sighed dramatically, pretending that Potter was causing him a great hardship.

Potter pulled on his pants, shimmying to pull them him. He held up Draco’s shirt and reached for Draco’s hand.

Draco allowed Potter to tug him up and held his hand as Potter led him from the bedroom, twining their fingers together and rubbing his thumb across the back of Potter’s hand. Draco couldn’t keep the happy smile off of his face as he followed Potter to the kitchen.

*******

In the kitchen, Potter herded him over to sit on the counter, hoisting him up and nearly tossing Draco over his shoulder to deposit him on the frigid marble surface.

“Oi!” Draco yelped as the chill of the marble met his arse. “Warming Charms are the gentlemanly practice, you great brute.”

“Sorry,” Potter said with the most unapologetic smirk. He twitched his fingers and Draco felt warmth settling around him until he was comfortable. “Better?”

“Much,” Draco drawled, leaning back on his hands and kicking his feet. “I haven’t been to buy groceries this week.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a master forager in a sparse kitchen,” Potter promised, his chest puffing out proudly. He glanced around Draco’s kitchen and after a moment of mulling over his options he snapped his fingers, decision apparently made.

He moved around Draco’s kitchen with familiarity and ease, and Draco liked watching him as he gathered a block of cheese and butter, bread, and a pan from where they were stored. It was one thing when he had his friends over to his home, but quite another to actually have someone with whom he felt like he could someday share his space in all of the intimate ways.

Draco appraised the ingredients Potter had to work with. Potter sliced cheese and dropped butter into the pan, the crackling hiss filling the room. Potter began to hum as he worked, and Draco leaned his head back against the cupboard behind him.

“Cheese toasties for dinner?” Draco asked mock-snidely. “You’re quite the plebeian, aren’t you?”

“Tell me that again after you’ve tasted this,” Potter said, shooting him a grin and flipping the sandwich with practiced ease.

Draco caught Potter’s gaze and held it as he plated the sandwiches. The cheese was perfectly melted when Draco bit into one and he moaned in delight, licking the buttery crumbs from his lips.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, Potter, this is divine,” Draco said reverently.

Potter beamed and shuffled closer with his plate to stand between Draco’s legs. Draco hooked his feet behind each of Potter’s knees and squeezed his hips between his thighs. He hummed as he ate another bite and impulsively leaned in to steal a kiss from Potter, tasting the butter on Potter’s tongue.

“You’ve given my arse a sound pounding, and you’ve cooked for me,” Draco said, ticking off on his fingers. He held up the last bite of his sandwich to feed to Potter, watching as his tongue darted out to lick Draco’s fingers. Draco bit his lip and kept his fingers pressed to the corners of Potter’s mouth as he chewed. “I might just have to keep you.”

“Yeah?” Potter wiped his hands on the sides of his pants, like a fucking commoner—and Draco didn’t even care. “You’re that easy?”

Draco hummed, pretending to consider as he admired the breadth of Potter’s shoulders, tracing over his collarbone with a light touch. It would be easy to put a little pressure on Potter’s shoulders and make him sink to his knees between Draco’s legs. His cock was twitching at the thought of Potter sucking him while he sat there on the counter, with only his open shirt to cover himself.

“Yeah, I think I might be,” Draco said under his breath, drifting out of the fog of his swirling desires. There were so many possibilities.

He glanced over to the counter on the opposite side of the room, the one that had a window. “You look good in my kitchen, Potter. I’ve half a mind to bend you over the counter and finger you until you’re begging me to take you.”

Potter’s eyes widened and then drooped, his pupils expanding with a burst of desire. “That…yes, I want to do that. Can you? Aren’t you knackered from before?”

“I am, a bit,” Draco admitted reluctantly. He ran his thumb over Potter’s bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. “But Merlin, I want to bury myself in that lush arse of yours.”

“Yeah?” Potter was breathless, swaying into Draco’s space and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Christ, that sounds good.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Draco laughed and draped his arms over Potter’s shoulders. “I have a better idea for the time being, though. Let’s go test out the bath together, and then later we can go again.”

“Okay,” Potter said, smoothing his palms down Draco’s back.

*******

After they luxuriated in the magically expanded tub, they sprawled diagonally across Draco’s bed. Potter was humming a tune under his breath while he toyed with Draco’s hair, massaging his scalp.

Draco dozed, completely sated. He was nearly asleep when Potter rolled away and rummaged through his bag in the corner.

Draco propped himself up on his elbows and admired the view. “Bring that brilliant arse of yours back here.”

“I am,” Potter said as he returned to bed and plopped next to Draco, jostling him. “Here.”

Potter handed over a yellow sheet similar to the others he’d been given when Potter completed the job. Draco pretended not to know what it was for when he saw the total cost listed at the bottom. “What’s this?”

“The bill for final payment,” Potter clarified, stretching out again next to him.

Draco sat up fully and leaned over Potter, waving the paper in his face. “What payment? You got your payment.”

“Er, no I didn’t?” Potter pointed out. He looked ready to doze off. “Did you arrange a transfer from Gringotts to my account when I wasn’t looking?”

“I paid you with my body,” Draco said, leaning into Potter’s space with a smug expression. “I think that more than suffices to settle whatever debt I owed.”

“Hilarious,” Potter said flatly, scoffing and narrowing his eyes. “Just because I like you, doesn’t mean I work for free, you know.”

“You won’t work for free for your future boyfriend?” Draco protested, feigning a scandalised expression and pressing a hand to his bare chest with all of the pompous aristocracy he could manage.

He dropped the facade after a moment and shifted to settle himself over Potter, flicking him on the nose. Potter shot him an unimpressed look, snaking a hand up to tug Draco’s wrists against his chest and Draco shrugged, unrepentant. He was determined to see if he could convince Potter otherwise. “Well, that’s just rotten of you,” Draco said, keeping his composure for barely a beat before he chuckled and kissed Potter’s fingers.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Potter hummed, his mouth twitching. He released Draco’s wrists, languidly wrapping his arms around him and tracing his fingers across the length of his back. Potter had a ridiculous smile on his face—Draco could tell he was pleased, despite the nonchalance of his words. “Is that where we’re going from here?”

“Obviously,” Draco said airily, gently bumping his nose against Potter’s chin. “You did ask me out to dinner, after all. On a _date_ , or so I surmised from your insinuation of wanting to do this thing between us in some semblance of the proper order. So... _clearly_ I should receive a friends and family discount on my bill.”

“I see,” Potter said, tightening his hold and rolling them both onto their sides. He tangled their legs together and looked at Draco with soft eyes. “What if we worked out a payment plan to suit your...budgeting needs?” he tried. Potter stole a kiss, and Draco could feel him smiling against his lips. He mumbled his next words against Draco’s mouth. “I’m open to working out something special for my _best_ customer.”

Draco opened his mouth to negotiate further, still curious to see if he could actually worm his way out of having to pay Potter his exorbitant fee for the bathroom project, but Potter cut him off with another kiss.

Draco tried to pull away from it, attempting to speak while connected to Potter’s soft lips, wanting to ask if Potter would be open to Draco seriously paying him back with his body, but then Potter rolled them again and pinned Draco to the bed. Potter rocked his hips against Draco’s lazily and Draco immediately gave up the thread of their conversation in favour of holding onto Potter and kissing him as if his life depended on it.

There would be time to convince Potter about the merits of payment by sexual favours later. In fact, there would be time for everything, especially now he had secured the best fix-it man in the business.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/133988.html).
> 
> Comments + Kudos are ♥ | Come say hi on Tumblr at [@carpemermaidtales](http://carpemermaidtales.tumblr.com)!


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